


Twice Baked Shit

by pippen2112



Series: Accidental Sex Drabbles [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bickering, Implied Sexual Content, previous Agent Washington/Agent Conneticut mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: “So, how do you judge “really, truly, genuinely” enjoying going down on a dude?”





	Twice Baked Shit

Something is off with Wash. Tucker knows it the moment Wash trudged into their ten AM chemistry class sucking down his coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. The bags around his eyes are darker than normal, and his hair flops into his face instead of styled to the point of anal perfection. 

Tucker has seen Wash after a fair few all nighters over the six semesters they’ve been friends. He’s seen Wash at his worst, so yes, he’s not exaggerating when he greets Wash with a “Holy fuck, you look like twice baked shit.”

Wash throws him a scathing look. “Tucker,” he sighs.

“Seriously, you look worse than that time you tried hitting on that beefcake TA when we snuck into the Tipsy Turtle sophomore year, and you ended up puking on his shoes.”

“Tucker.” His tone darkens, warning apparent.

“Worse than when you and Church got dared to play seven minutes in heaven, and you got all dramatic about it when Church noped out.”

“For the love of God, Lavernius. Drop. It.”

And for once, Tucker actually shuts his trap. But then again, he and Wash don’t usually pull the first name card unless shit is serious. His hands twitch into his lap as he tries to do what Wash asks. But he’s never been particularly good at staying quiet for long. “Dude, are you… are you okay?”

Wash sighs. He stops midway through unpacking his legal pad and colored pens—the dork still takes notes by hand—and slumps deeper into his chair. He glares down at his coffee before he sighs again. “Connie broke up with me.”

Tucker’s eyes bug out, so wide enough he’s worried they might pop out and roll across the desk. “Shit. I’m sorry, dude.” He adds, quieter now, “I know you liked her.”

“Thanks,” Wash says, but he still sounds more bitter than day old coffee grounds. 

“What happened?”

For a split second, Wash turns his glare on him, and yeah, being under Wash’s “dead to me” stare is never pleasant, but quick enough the agitation gives way to acceptance. Its not like Wash wouldn’t pick and pry if Tucker dropped a bombshell like that. It’s only fair. 

Leaning closer, Wash whispers, “She got sick of me not being able to…” he flushes and makes an explosion hand gesture. 

For the second time this hour, Tucker’s eyes bulge. “Wait, seriously? You couldn’t come?”

“No, Tucker,” Wash admits through gritted teeth. “I couldn’t.”

“Not even when she gave you head?”

Wash’s cheeks burn bright red, and he ducks his head.

“Wait, she never gave you head?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Wash says defensively. “No one actually likes putting their mouth down there.”

Only the fact that Wash just got dumped stops Tucker from full-on laughing in his face. Doesn't stop him from snorting, however, and that might be worse. Oh well, too late; gotta own it now. “I hate to break it to you, Wash, but yeah, lots of people do.”

Wash rolls his eyes. “Yeah right. You find someone that really, truly, genuinely enjoys choking on dick, and I’ll streak across the quad.”

Even as the image flashes through Tucker’s mind in Technicolor, he smirks. “Dude, no one calls it “the quad.’”

“Shut up.”

#

“So, how do you judge “really, truly, genuinely” enjoying going down on a dude?”

Wash chokes on his beer. Tucker chuckles into his drink, glad he waited for a break in the bar’s music to ask. Most nights he’d spend hunting down new ladies to try his luck with, but Wash is still fresh from his breakup. Tucker’s not gonna be a total dick by parading some new hottie in front of him. Tonight is about Wash.

“I-I mean,” Wash sputters as he wipes off his chin. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, dude.” Tucker nudges him. “You must have thought about it at least a little. I mean, you like dudes too.”

Blushing, Wash hangs his head. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I guess if they got aroused, maybe?”

Well, now that Wash has said it, Tucker can’t un-think it. Can’t un-imagine it. He manages to choke out a response, but the rest of the evening Tucker can’t stop twitching. Heat pulses through him at the thought of sinking to his knees, sucking Wash’s cock all the way into his throat, and turning Wash into a stammering idiot in the process.

By the time Tucker comes back to himself, Wash is gone from his stool. When Tucker asks the bartender where he went and gets pointed toward the bathroom, Tucker downs the last of his drink. Before his resolve runs out.

Tucker makes it all the way to the men’s room before Wash opens the door. But instead of being deterred, Tucker grabs him by the collar and drags him into the stall and pushes him onto the toilet.

“Tucker, what are you—”

“Shut up, and unzip your pants.”

Wash furrows his brow. Rolling his eyes, Tucker pushes between Wash’s splayed legs and kneels. “I’m gonna suck your dick. Okay?”

Sucking in a breath, Wash stares down at him. “Tucker, I-I—”

“And believe me, it’s definitely not because I wanna see you show your pale ass on campus.”

Wash huffs. “Tucker, I didn’t say I’d streak if you blew me. I said I’d streak if—”

Tucker winks. “Oh, I know what you said. Now are you gonna take off your pants or is this gonna get awkward?”

Flushing beet red to the collar of his shirt, Wash fumbles open his fly.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and suggestions welcome! Come scream with me on Tumblr (@birdsbeesandlemonadetrees)


End file.
